


For the Memories

by Strange and Intoxicating -rsa- (strangeandintoxicating)



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Cloud worships Aerith because he should, Cunnilingus, F/M, Final Fantasy VII Remake, Oral Sex, very mild spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:13:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23843560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeandintoxicating/pseuds/Strange%20and%20Intoxicating%20-rsa-
Summary: Aerith is beauty personified.That’s the only thing that Cloud can think of—she’s beautiful like a sunrise on the edges of the horizon, light bursting forth to drive out the night. It’s in her smile, in her eyes, in the way she reaches out with one hand to touch his shoulder, as if this is a game she’s playing but for what end Cloud doesn’t know.“Are you ready to go?”Cloud answers before he has even a moment to think, because he doesn’t need to think.“No.”
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Cloud Strife
Comments: 23
Kudos: 153
Collections: Umbrella & Nailbat | Member Stories





	For the Memories

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this specifically for my friend @lunafreysia over on twitter. We were talking and realized that the porn in the Clerith fandom is... lacking. It's not even my fandom, but I felt like the fandom deserved something a little more.

Aerith is beauty personified.

That’s the only thing that Cloud can think of—she’s beautiful like a sunrise on the edges of the horizon, light bursting forth to drive out the night. It’s in her smile, in her eyes, in the way she reaches out with one hand to touch his shoulder, as if this is a game she’s playing but for what end Cloud doesn’t know.

“Are you ready to go?” 

Cloud answers before he has even a moment to think, because he doesn’t _need_ to think. 

“No.”

“Aw, you big softie. Gunna miss me?” 

Could doesn’t answer her because he can see it in her eyes just as much as he can feel it in every cell of his body. 

_Yes_.

It’s still early—early enough that Cloud knows he’s got plenty of time before he needs to head back to Seventh Heaven to figure out what Avalanche’s next hare-brained scheme will be, but dark enough that the sun has begun to set against the steel sky. 

Maybe it’s the darkness that gives him courage to let their hands touch for that one brief moment. Maybe that’s what makes Cloud link their fingers together, to feel her skin against his, her pulse as soft as a butterfly’s wings. 

Maybe, just maybe, it’s a bit of stupidity; Aerith is beautiful in a way that almost feels like staring into the sun. If he looks too long, if he stares with utter abandon, he might go blind. 

Cloud looks anyway, not caring how much it might burn.

He shouldn’t feel this way—they’ve barely spent two days together, but those two days feel like a lifetime. They clicked so fast and so easy, like it was meant to be. 

Is it possible to fall in love that quickly?

Is it possible for him to love at all?

He can see her—another time, another place. There’s fireworks and gold shining bright like stars against the backdrop of a full moon, and she reaches for his hand, then for his cheek. They kissed then, though Cloud doesn’t know when or where it was, but he can feel it in his bones. 

It’s right. Out of everything, this moment is right.

Cloud isn’t sure who moves first, but all he knows is she tastes like warmth and something sweet. It’s a nice feeling, one that feels _right_ in the middle of a world that’s so wrong, so he lets himself indulge in this one moment where Aerith’s hands and tongue are the only things on the planet to keep him grounded. 

She says something then, a whisper of Cloud’s name as she presses their foreheads together for just a moment before she wraps her arms around him to pull him in for another kiss.

Cloud doesn’t know what he’s doing, not really. One hand cupping her jaw, the other wrapped around her waist—she’s soft and funny and scrappy in a way that makes Cloud’s heart feel something he can’t understand, and looking at her makes his pulse quicken and his body ache. His heart _hurts_ when he looks at her. 

But her kiss is intoxicating, drowning and filling him with something that needs no words, because she’s everything and everywhere, and Cloud lets himself fall. 

She takes his hand and leads him toward a little sparse patch of dying grass, pushing him down on his back to stare up at the smoggy sky.

“Aerith,” Cloud starts, but a finger against his lips and then a kiss is all he needs. 

“You’ll ruin the moment.”

So Cloud doesn’t talk, because her mouth is on his and her hands are in his hair again, and he knows he shouldn’t but he can’t stop himself from reaching up to her perfect breasts, massaging them through the fabric of her dress. 

Aerith moans then, soft and sure, and Cloud can’t help but swallow it in, encouraging him further. 

It’s messy, that much he knows—she deserves more than a patch of grass under a smoggy sky. Aerith’s a girl that deserves a bed of roses and whispers of sweet nothings. 

But the way she grinds against him, the way she _lets_ Cloud roll her into the grass with one arm braced under her head, the way her breath catches in her throat as Cloud slides a gloved finger down against her panties—

Aerith wants this as much as Cloud does, and though she deserves more, Cloud can only give her what he has.

Her hair surrounds her in a halo and she smiles with an impish grin, and Cloud can’t help but wonder whether she’s leading him to temptation or salvation. 

Does it matter?

Does Cloud really _care_?

And Cloud knows he’s broken, that he’s fucked up beyond all measure, but feeling pulling off his glove with his teeth and feeling her skin against his fingers is like heaven and hell, and damning him or saving him doesn’t matter. He needs this like he needs air, and he can’t help but savor the sounds she makes as he sinks his finger into that tight heat.

The broken sound she makes as she nudges his kisses down to her decolletage, then down and down the buttons on her dress until he can hike up her skirt around her waist drives him mad. He wants to hear more, wants to know her in ways he doesn't understand, and yet—

The little moogles on her panties make Cloud snicker and Aerith turns a particular shade of red, a cherry ready to be plucked from the tree.

“Don’t—don’t laugh,” she says, but Cloud’s too preoccupied with peeling them down her milky white thighs to reply. He tosses them off to the side, looking down at the soft curls hidden between her thighs. 

If her lips taste like heaven, the rest of her is sin incarnate. The sounds she makes as Cloud lifts up her thighs, the laughter and the petal-soft moan rushes straight to Cloud’s cock, but he wants this for her. 

“Cloud?” Her words are… 

Cloud can’t tell what’s in that tone. It’s a little fear, a little nervousness that was usually masked by her slight bravado, and a little sadness that Cloud can’t quite wrap his head around. 

“You can tell me to stop, if you want,” he remarks, fingers slowly ghosting their way up and down her thigh. If she wants this to end, he’ll do it. If she wants this to go further, he’ll do it. If she wants him to cut out his own heart and hand it to her, he’ll do it with a smile. 

_Why?_ part of Cloud wonders, but he can’t think of an answer. That or he’s decided that he doesn’t care about an answer.

All that matters is _her_. And she licks her lip for just a moment before nodding her head, and that's more than enough for him.

It’s ridiculous and cheesy and pathetic, but Cloud can’t help but smile as she bites down and whispers his name again, an affirmation if there ever is one.

She only says one word, but that’s all she’s ever needed, isn’t it?

His name rolls off her tongue and Cloud basks in it. He wishes he had the words to explain it, to tell her exactly what she means. Cloud needs her to know just how she makes him feel, because—

He loves her like the first bloom loves spring’s sweet rain.

 _But I don’t **know** her,_ he thinks, but looking down at her, at the way her lashes flutter like a butterfly’s wings, at her trembling mouth, at her flushed-pink face he _does_. He knows her like he knows the smell of Nibelheim winters, the taste of the cold on his tongue, the blood in his veins and the sounds of his heart beating against his ribcage. 

Cloud doesn’t know why, doesn’t know _how,_ but he loves Aerith all the same. 

Running his tongue against her folds, Cloud presses his nose against her nub, enjoying the way she rolls her hips. She wants more, wants so much more, and Cloud’s ready to give.

Her musk, dark and so alluring, is enough to make even the hardest man melt, and he watches her groan and her fingers dig into the dying grass as he slips a finger inside. 

“Oh, _Cloud_.” She says his name like a prayer, and if Cloud wasn’t already on his knees he would have fallen there to worship at her altar. 

It doesn’t take long to push her over the edge, one hand twined in his hair and the mako reactors shining like stars in her green eyes. The sounds she makes are something Cloud knows will stay with him long after, and he licks and kisses until the shaking subsides and her grip goes lax. When he pulls out his fingers they’re wet, and he licks them just because he can.

Cloud’s gentle as he takes her legs off his shoulders, pressing a kiss to each calf as she lazily half-giggles. His pants are tight, tighter than he’d ever admit, but for some reason he just wants to look at her. He wants to remember _this_ Aerith, have it imprinted in his mind for the rest of his life. 

When he lays down next to her to stare up into the hazy night sky, he can’t help but smile as she rolls up to his side, throwing her leg over his.

“What was that for?” she asks, reaching out to play with his suspender buckle. There’s teasing in her voice, but more than that there’s something else, something Cloud doesn’t understand. It’s almost _melancholy,_ and it makes him happy and yet so, so sad. 

“I dunno.” And that's the truth. He doesn't know, doesn't think he wants to know, doesn't even know if it's possible to understand. She's beauty personified, and all he can do is wish for a moment of her grace.

She cocks one eyebrow as she scoots closer, the dead grass in her hair peeking out. “You sure about that?” 

Cloud thinks and thinks _hard_ before he shoots her a quirky smile, pulling her closer. He brushes the stray blade of yellowing grass from her hair.

“I guess… it’s for the memories.” There's something there, just under the surface, but Cloud instead pulls her in to press a kiss against the side of her messy bangs.

“Memories, huh?” Aerith says, though it’s hard to hear over the sound of her soft and steady breathing. “I guess… a girl can get behind that.” 


End file.
